To Rule Them All
by Ravenclaw-Earl of Storybrooke
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen receives a gift from a stranger. This story is set directly after the Game of Thrones episode, "The Bells," and contains spoilers for that episode. If you enjoy this story, please favorite and review.


To Rule Them All

Queen Daenerys receives a gift from a stranger.

Author's Note: This story contains spoilers from "The Bells." I am not often emotional when writing, but this was written from a sizzling fury in my gut. I hope with all my heart that she gets what she deserves. If you are reading this, thank you for indulging my worst impulses. I'll return to my niche of character studies and family drama soon.

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Daenerys of the House Targaryen, First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons stepped into the throne room in the Red Keep. Her attack had torn the roof off of the place, but a number of pillars were still standing.

A mixture of snow and ash filled the room as she approached the Iron Throne.

"It wasn't an easy path, was it?" came a voice from behind her.

Daenerys spun around to see a tall man with long, dark hair in a simple robe. He smiled at her with kind eyes.

"Who are you?" Daenerys demanded, suddenly wishing that had allowed Grey Worm's request to accompany her.

"No one you should fear," the stranger responded. "I am Annatar, Lord of Gifts. I come offering friendship and counsel."

Daenerys almost scoffed. Varys had offered counsel and betrayed her. Tyrion offered counsel, and he was almost certain to follow the same path as his friend. However, Jon Snow's betrayal and the loss of Rhaegal (as well as Viserion) had left her wanting friendship, and this tall stranger had the look of trustworthiness about him.

"And what counsel would you offer me, Lord Annatar?"

"I would counsel you to stay your course," Annatar said. "Very few understand what you and I understand. Difficult choices and sacrifices must be made in order to remake the world in an image that we desire."

"I only desire to make the world a better place for future generations," Daenerys said, slightly defensively.

Annatar smiled sympathetically. "I completely understand. Sometimes, fire and blood are the only way to accomplish such ends." Reaching into the pocket of his robe, he withdrew an unadorned wooden box. "For you, my queen."

Daenerys took the box and opened it. It held an intricately carved silver ring with a cluster of three, blood-red rubies in the center. She found herself entirely transfixed. "It's beautiful."

"It's more than that," Annatar said. "I have enchanted this ring with the craft of my people of old. It shall bring strength and purpose to any great ruler who wears it. All those who follow you will be bound to you. Once you put the ring on, it cleaves to you and your very soul, but once you possess it, you will never desire to remove it."

Daenerys concealed a smirk. She was never one to believe silly superstitions, but it was a beautiful ring, and Annatar had been so kind to present it to her. She slipped it onto her index finger.

"Thank you for your kind gift, Lord Annatar."

Annatar bowed low. "Long may you reign, Your Grace." He quietly walked from the throne room.

Daenerys did feel as though she had been filled with vivacious new purpose. She drew herself up to her full height and strode towards the Iron Throne.

Sauron watched through an upper level of the ruined Red Keep as Daenerys sat upon the Iron Throne. It was a hollow victory for her, just as he had hoped. Ar-Pharazon himself could not have failed and fallen so entirely.

Sauron grinned to himself and turned away.

The King of Numenor had served his purpose, yes, but Daenerys Targaryen had been tailor-made for his service. She would, in time, become a great Nazgul. Anyone who would so wantonly destroy a city in pursuit of their desire to rule had the right temperament for a place among his greatest servants. No matter whether her reign over Westeros lasted fifty days or fifty years, it did not matter.

_She belongs to me, now_.

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Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed my little bit of literary venting. If you feel so led, please favorite and review.


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